


Eternity Knot

by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 20:34:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2786798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceraNight/pseuds/Lamia%20of%20the%20Dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After stealing Bellatrix's fiance, Andromeda insists that Bella be the maid of honor at their wedding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eternity Knot

~ Eternity Knot ~

"Stop fidgeting," Walburga Black says to her niece as she continues to affix small pink pearls at intervals along selected locks of Bellatrix's hair. The rest of her hair has been put up in curlers and slathered with potions in an attempt to tame the scraggly mass into something more visually pleasing than the wild mess which Bellatrix usually sports.

"I can't help it, Auntie," Bellatrix grumbles in reply. She makes no attempt to halt the nervous movements that continually disrupt the decoration process.

Finally at the end of her patience, Walburga snaps, "Be still or so help me Merlin, I will Stun you until I'm finished. At this rate, you won't be ready before the ceremony starts!"

Bellatrix grinds her teeth together to prevent herself from saying something that would undoubtedly cause her aunt to make good on the threat.

"Are you almost done?" she asks as calmly as she can, but it comes out sounding (even to her own ears) as though she is whining.

Walburga lets out a heavy sigh at her niece's antics, and replies, "Yes, nearly. There are a few more rows of pearls left to do and then the curlers can come out. Then we just have to get you into your dress."

Bellatrix represses a sigh at the mention of the dress. It is a pale rose hue, and while that is definitely not a good color on Bellatrix, it also isn't excessively horrid. It is simply... unremarkable. The overall style of the garment is rather plain as well.

Bellatrix regrets letting her mother pressure her into being the maid of honor at Andromeda's wedding. She'd wanted nothing to do with it at all, but Andromeda had absolutely insisted. As if it wasn't bad enough that her little sister had stolen her fiance, Bellatrix had then allowed her mother to shame and guilt her into participating in the wedding ceremony, when the last place she wanted to be was within three feet of Rodolphus Lestrange - especially after the humiliation she had suffered for having her arranged betrothal broken because the man she was supposed to marry had been seduced away from her by her younger sister.

Bellatrix stares blankly at the wall of the small dressing room, trying to hold still through the prodding of Walburga's wand against her scalp as the elder witch continues setting the pearls in place. A small shelf with a potted plant on it is the only thing which breaks up the monotony of the room's white wall. As Bellatrix fixes her gaze on it, she wishes the shelf would break and the plant would come tumbling down to land right on her aunt's stupid head, showering the woman with soil and fertilizer when the fragile flowerpot shatters against her thick skull.

Her mind caught up in this violent little fantasy, Bellatrix is surprised when her aunt announces, "There, all done!"

"Finally," Bellatrix breathes with a relieved sigh.

"Now hurry and put on your dress," Walburga instructs sternly. "You only have five minutes before you're meant to enter the chapel."

"Where I'll have to walk up to the front with Rabastan, then I stand off to the left of the altar and he goes to the right," Bellatrix recites. "We've been over this a thousand times already, I know."

"Unfortunately, Rabastan has fallen ill so there's been a last-minute substitution for the best man," her aunt informs her. "He's a friend of the family. Do  _try_  not to say anything rude to him."

Distracted by wondering who she will be walking down the aisle with, Bellatrix flubs the dressing spell. Walburga helps the younger witch right her clothing and hurries her out of the dressing room with a hissed warning to be on her best behavior and not do anything to embarrass the family.

Bellatrix quickly makes her way to the outer doors of the chapel, but her steps slow when she sees who is waiting for her there.

"My lord, what are you doing here?" she asks in surprise.

The Dark Lord quirks an elegantly arched eyebrow and replies in a bored tone, "Rabastan was suddenly taken ill. I volunteered to take his place."

"Why?" she asks, before she can stop herself.

Luckily for her, her master seems to be amused by the question and decides to indulge her by answering it.

"I've never been the best man at a wedding before," he says. "I thought it might provide an... interesting experience." His tone changes to one of impatience as he says, "Now get over here and into position. We'll be called to go in soon."

As she steps up beside him, linking elbows with him and laying her hand lightly on his forearm, she fails to notice the way his gaze rakes over her, lingering on the multitude of pink pearls that adorn her hair. The unflattering color and fit of the dress she wears do nothing to diminish the young woman's natural beauty.

"You clean up well," he remarks under his breath as the chapel doors creak open.

She glances at him, a faint blush staining her cheeks, as they enter the sacred chamber. She does not dare reply verbally to the backhanded compliment, but her grip on his arm tightens the slightest bit as he escorts her past the rows of guests to the front of the room. She lingers at his side for just a beat too long when they part to take their places at opposite sides of the altar.

As the ceremony drags on, Bellatrix contemplates the revenge she will enact on her sister at a later date. Once Andromeda is officially a Lestrange and out from under the aegis of the Black family, she will be an easy target for destruction by her vicious elder sister. Their marriage is already getting a lot of publicity among the gossip rags, as the Lestrange heir marrying a daughter of the Black family is apparently front-page news for such lowbrow publications as  _Witch Weekly_  and the like. Rumors are already flying about what exactly Andromeda must have done in order to steal her older sister's intended groom, so it couldn't be too difficult to find a way in which to entirely ruin Andromeda's reputation.

Bellatrix is startled out of her thoughts by a brief flash of pain and for a moment she is confused as to what caused it, until she glances across the aisle and sees the Dark Lord watching her and although his expression is placid, his gaze seems somehow censorious. She wonders if she was making odd faces while thinking about her future revenge, or if he'd somehow overheard her actual thoughts (was that possible for someone with such a high proficiency in Legilimency?) and is warning her against acting upon them.

Holding eye contact with him, she lightly traces her Mark through the sleeve of her gown. In response he nods almost imperceptibly, confirming... what exactly, she isn't sure. No one else notices this silent exchange between the two of them. The other guests are either staring at the bride and groom with rapt attention or caught up in their own internal thoughts or muted interactions.

The ceremony concludes smoothly (although Bellatrix receives another subtle warning from her master when the ministry worker who is officiating the wedding solicits objections), toasts are made, and dinner is served. After the meal, the reception begins in earnest, and Bellatrix is called upon to perform her final duty as the maid of honor - sharing the first dance with the best man.

"Has the experience proved sufficiently  _interesting_  for you, my lord?" she inquires as he leads her to the dance floor.

"Quite," he responds succinctly.

"Not willing to admit that it's all rather boring?" she asks with a teasing smile.

As the dance begins, the Dark Lord takes his young protege into his arms, holding her closer than is proper for a pair who aren't a committed couple. He will get away with it, though, because no one will be willing to risk his wrath by calling him out for it.

Thoughts of her sister and her newly-minted brother-in-law fly out of Bellatrix's mind as the Dark Lord winds his arm around her waist.

"Why are you so jealous of your sister, anyway?" he murmurs. "You were complaining about your engagement from the day it was arranged. You never wanted to marry him."

"She took something that belonged to me," Bellatrix replies.

"So you want him back now that you can't have him, is that it?" There is a cold edge to his voice that she does not like.

"No," she says. "But that doesn't mean she shouldn't be punished for taking him from me."

There is a beat of silence.

"Perhaps," he puts forth, "you should think of it like this: your sister did you a favor by setting you free to consort with whoever you truly desire."

"I suppose I could look at it that way," she replies with a frown. "But where's the fun in that?" Temperamental girl, pouting over what she perceives as a lost opportunity.

He waits for further response, but apparently the latter part of his supposition is lost on her due to her focus on her desire for revenge against the sister who has slighted her. The silence stretches uncomfortably between them for a few moments until Bellatrix blurts out, "And it's not like Andromeda wants him, either. I swear she's just doing this for the attention."

The Dark Lord sighs.

"You do not lack for attention, Bellatrix. Allow your sister to have her moment in the spotlight."

Her lips part, but her response is forestalled by the end of the song. Couples break apart all around them as partners are shuffled for the next dance. The groom approaches the still-entwined pair, holding his hand out to his new sister-in-law in invitation.

"No," the Dark Lord says coldly, pulling Bellatrix closer to himself. "I think not, Lestrange."

Rodolphus backs away awkwardly, bumping into Cygnus Black's shoulder and earning himself a glare from his wife, who is now dancing with her father.

"Oh, yes, look at the happy couple," Voldemort says, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Bellatrix laughs awkwardly. There is no room in her mind for coherent thoughts as she both panics and rejoices at the feeling of her master's possessive grip pressing her body against his in a way that is surely too intimate for the dance floor. Does he not realize that they are in  _public,_  that her father is standing right next to them and can surely see what is happening?

Bellatrix sees her father's gaze slide over her as Cygnus and Andromeda twirl past them but he displays no reaction, adverse or otherwise. Perhaps the fact that she has been carrying on with her master for several years now is not as much of a secret as she would have believed...

Boldly, she lays her head on the Dark Lord's shoulder. He responds by shifting his hold on her to be a bit less crushing and more suitable to dancing, and the two of them sway together, not quite in time with the music but lost in the moment and each other. The song changes again and again but no one else dares try to take her away from him.

Much later, when the dancing is done, and the guests begin to make their excuses and straggle away in ones and twos, Bellatrix and Voldemort slip out into the courtyard for a breath of fresh air, and to get away from the thinning crowd.

She has had plenty of time by now to mull over all of their interactions throughout this day, and she says to him now, "You know, if it weren't a completely ridiculous notion, I might think that you had something to do with all of this."

The look that he gives her at this pronouncement only serves to confirm her suspicions. She grins, and starts to speak, but whatever she was planning to say is lost under the onslaught of a sudden and violent kiss. The Dark Lord drags her against him in a hard, possessive embrace. The pearls click against each other as he fists his hand in her hair.

They may not be bound in the manner of a traditional couple, and their relationship is anything but traditional... but she is undeniably his, their fates twined in a complex and inextricable eternity knot.

~end~


End file.
